


Marked

by mangoapplepie (jg291)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, M/M, They're sixteen?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:57:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3893833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jg291/pseuds/mangoapplepie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malfoy is finally out of the hospital wing after an unfortunate spell (well, Harry's unfortunate spell) put him there. It's not Harry's fault the year is almost up and he needs to figure out what Malfoy's been doing, and, well, if he has to stalk him to the Prefect's Bathroom, he will. He has to win the war, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marked

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OrangeMango](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeMango/gifts).



> Here's a fic set during HBP. I haven't read it in years, so I'm pretty sure I have the timing of the Sectumsempra incident a bit off, but please go with it!

He can’t look away. It's just a name on a piece of parchment. He shouldn’t care this much.

But it’s a name that’s not clustered around others for the first time in three weeks, for the first time since it made its way out of the hospital wing, for the first time since Harry put it there.

He needs to figure out what’s happening in the Room of Requirement, why the room shifted from his wonderful club to its current nefarious purpose, why he cares so much.

Harry tells himself it’s because of Voldemort, because he needs to know everything about his enemy.

But that’s the problem. He needs to know _everything_ about his enemy.

This year, though, for the first time since he got to Hogwarts, Voldemort doesn’t feel like his enemy.

He needs to get to the prefects' bathroom. Now.

***

It’s obviously after curfew, so Harry travels in his Invisibility Cloak. He made Ron tell him the password on his way out, so he’s good on that front. The walk to the bathroom is without incident – no unfortunate run-ins with Peeves or Filch tonight, thankfully.

He tries to open the door as inconspicuously as possible, and he thinks he succeeds. However, as soon as he sneaks his way inside, Harry realizes this might not have been the best idea he’s ever had. Last time he encountered Malfoy in a bathroom, he performed the worst spell he ever did, and even though it was _Malfoy **,**_ Harry is going to feel badly about it for a long time.

But the Sectumsempra incident isn’t the main reason Harry shouldn’t have come. Somehow, in his glee to finally be able to track down Malfoy, it never occurred to Harry what Malfoy would be doing in the bathroom. 

Bathing – naked – definitely never crossed his mind. 

He tries to silently turn around, but he’s not quiet enough.

“Potter, I know you’re under there,” Malfoy drawls. “Got another Dark spell you need a guinea pig for? You do seem to like bathrooms so very much.”

“How do you know it’s me?” Harry asks, exasperated.

“First of all, Potter, you are one of the few students at the school who definitely owns an invisibility cloak. Second, and more importantly, out of that selective group, you’re the only one who has any interest in stalking me. You might as well come out and tell me what you’re doing here.”

Why *is* he here? Harry really should have given that one more thought before heading out. He wants to find out what errand Voldemort has Malfoy doing for him. Weirdly enough, he doesn’t think interrogating Malfoy in the tub is the best idea.

And Malfoy is, indeed, in the tub – well, the giant pool that the fancy bathroom houses. He appears to be sitting on a perch along one of the sides, near a tap that apparently emits a vanilla scent.

Odd. Harry never pegged Malfoy for a vanilla type of guy. That was Harry’s favorite scent, after all.

… not that Harry ever thought about Malfoy in connection to fragrances or anything.

But, anyway, back to the pool. Thank god the water rises deep enough to keep Malfoy covered; only his head and neck are sticking out. What Harry can see, though, annoys the fuck out of him – Malfoy’s smirk has turned into a perfect show of exacerbation, a face close to the one he often displays around Harry, but it’s a bit different tonight, somehow. Harry wants to figure it out.

First, though, he has a more pressing problem to deal with – why the _fuck_ did he come here? He clears his throat to answer – to say anything – but he’s interrupted. “Come on, Potter,” Malfoy calls, almost whines, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

_What?_

Oh. The cloak. He’s still wearing the cloak. That’s surely what Malfoy means. He wasn’t coming on to Harry. Definitely. It’s probably a bad idea, but he shrugs off the cloak anyway.

Malfoy’s eyes widen as Harry starts to appear before him. Harry might’ve been getting ready for bed before impulsively deciding to come down here, so he might just be wearing a t-shirt (a _tight_ one, Hermione’s made fun of him before) and denims. Surely, though, Malfoy’s not reacting to his choice of clothing, and probably just because Harry was dumb enough to show his face.

And then Malfoy stands. Harry’s mouth falls open in shock, but he controls the rest of his face, training his eyes to look into Malfoy’s, not to look elsewhere.

He really should have kept that cloak on.

“Oh, come on, Potter,” Malfoy repeats, “you thought I was kidding? Does it seem like I’ve had a fun year to you, that I can just joke like that?”

Malfoy stills when he realizes that he might have said something he shouldn’t, but he brings his lips together in a tight line, betraying nothing. It’s clearly Harry’s turn to speak, but he’s having a bit of trouble coming up with words at the moment.

The Slytherin saves him. “Why are you here, Potter? What do you _want_?”

He wants Malfoy to stop being evil. He wants Malfoy to tell him what he’s up to.

He wants Malfoy’s naked body not to make him as hard as it is, but that’s not an answer. He need to say something, though, so Harry says the first thing he can pull from his brain. “I don’t know, Malfoy, what do you think I want?”

Smooth, Potter, good one.

“Well, seeing as how you were the one who stalked me here, I should really make you answer, but I’ll throw you a bone, seeing as was apparently a hard question.” As Malfoy says ‘hard,” Harry swears Malfoy’s eyes leave his face and down to his trousers. Fuck. “I’ll tell you what I want – the weight of the world off my shoulders.”

Harry snorts. “Yeah, can’t say I know how that one feels.”

Shockingly, Harry’s sarcasm pulls a wry smile out of Malfoy. “Perhaps we can distract each other then? I do have one problem you can help me with.”

He shouldn’t take the opening he shouldn’t take the opening he shouldn’t take the opening.

Fuck that. “And what problem would that be?” Harry asks, dreading the answer.

Malfoy simply glances down, to where Harry was steadfastly _not_ looking. Oh.

Oh. Malfoy’s eyes glance back up to Harry. “You interested in helping each other out?”

“No!” Harry shouts, a little too loudly.

Malfoy laughs. It’s kind of cruel, but also, kind of beautiful. “What, is the Weaselette keeping you satisfied? I’d be surprised, but you never do know… It doesn’t have to be a thing, Potter, just a little fun. I think we both could use it.”

And he does. Need it, that is. Ginny is not keeping him – satisfied, or whatever the fuck Malfoy is on about. They’ve kissed a few times, but nothing beyond that.

“So, Malfoy, what exactly are you proposing?”

“Just join me in the bath, Potter, it’s quite nice in here.” When Harry walks towards the giant pool, Malfoy laughs again. “You might want to take your clothes off, first, Potter, as much as I enjoy how those jeans show you off.”

So he does, strip, take off his clothes. He does so slowly, not because he wants to tease, because _what the fuck is he doing._ Malfoy, though, acts as if Harry is putting on a show, whistling, making Harry regret ever agreeing to whatever the fuck this is. And then he looks back at Malfoy, sees how goddamn hard the Slytherin is, and decides to fuck it all and join him in the tub.

The water is hot, warmer than Harry was expecting. It can be charmed warm, of course, but for some reason, Harry is surprised. He gets in on the opposite edge of the tub, reluctant to come closer.

Malfoy groans, almost impatiently. “Come on, Potter, you’ve already come this far. Are you really going to make me come to you?" 

“I’ll make you come, all right.”

 _WHAT THE FUCK._ What is Harry even saying? Did Malfoy somehow wandlessly Imperio him, or something? Why is he acting like he wants this so much?

(It’s because he does, the annoying voice in the back of his head says…)

But in for a penny, in for a pound, and all, so he closes the distance between him and Malfoy, but just stands there.

“Merlin, Potter, do I need to do _everything_?” Malfoy whines as he closes the distance between him and Potter – not between their bodies, but between their mouths.

The kiss is nothing like the ones he’s shared with Ginny – those are tentative, sweet. This is daring, searing, consuming. Without even realizing how it happened, Malfoy’s tongue is in Harry’s mouth, fighting for dominance, stealing Harry’s breath. Harry moves in closer, so he’s flush against Malfoy, gasping as their cocks touch, shifting so he can feel that again.

Malfoy moves his hand away from the back of Harry’s neck – how did it get there? – and slides it down Harry’s body, rests it on Harry’s thigh.

“So, Potter, anyone ever touch you down here?”

“Yes, loads of times,” Harry says, clearly joking, like Draco Malfoy is someone he jokes around with on the reg. Harry, though, can feel Malfoy smile against his cheek, and notes how it’s a nice feeling.

And then Malfoy moves his hand from Harry’s thigh to his cock.

Holy shit. Fuck. No, no one’s ever touched Harry down there before, and it’s amazing. Draco’s hand is just resting, though, and that clearly won’t do. Harry bucks his hips forward, trying to get some friction, and knocks Malfoy back into the wall. He does it a few more times, moaning the whole way.

“Shit, Potter, you like that? Feel like reciprocating a little bit?”

Oh, yeah. Harry’s been a little preoccupied to be concerned with Draco Malfoy’s pleasure, but that might be a little rude. (He’s new at this, okay? He doesn’t know what to do.)

He brings his hand, down, too, but instead of tracing his hand down Malfoy’s chest, like Malfoy just did, he traces the Slytherin’s arm.

His left arm.

And holy shit, is there a prominent mark there. Harry stalls, pulls away from Malfoy a little bit, so his cock falls out of Malfoy’s grasp.

“I was wondering when you’d notice that, or if my naked body was just too distracting to pay attention to the real reason you were here,” Malfoy says, voice cracking as he speaks, but calling Harry back to Earth all the same.

Oh, yeah, the real reason he’s here. The reason that has to do with Voldemort and nothing to do with beautiful, naked bodies.

Harry really, really doesn’t want to think about Voldemort right now. But of course Harry Potter’s first sexual experience would be ruined by the Dark Lord. It is his destiny, after all.

Unless he doesn’t let it. He’s still holding Draco’s arm, though, but somehow, subconsciously started moving his thumb up and down the Dark Mark softly. If it was any other tattoo, anyone else’s arm, it could easily be called a caress.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Harry says softly. “Unless you want to?”

Harry’s not often perceptive, but he _knows_ Draco Malfoy. He’s spent enough time hating on him, thinking about him (obsessing about him), to know the differing tones of his voice. For someone as private as Draco, there’s only a small difference between the angry voice and the vulnerable voice, but his last comment definitely came across as vulnerable. Not because Harry saw the Dark Mark – he wouldn’t have gotten out of the water if that was the concern – but what else could it be?

Is it possible he didn’t want the Mark? That it was forced on him because of who his father was, that he felt he had no choice?

“No, I don’t want to, Potter,” Malfoy spouts, petulantly. Not angrily, not defensively, not proudly, but petulantly. Like a little child who was forced to eat his broccoli. Not someone who got the giant chocolate cake he’s been dreaming about since his last birthday.

Not like someone who’s been dreaming of becoming a Death Eater his whole life.

“You didn’t want this, did you?” Harry muses. It’s clear it’s more than he should have said aloud, because Draco pulls his arm away like Harry was on fire. Even standing in the warm tub, Harry feels the loss of warmth.

“I _said_ I didn’t want to talk about it, Potter.”

“Okay, we don’t have to talk about,” says Harry, as he grabs Draco’s hand again. He uses it to pull Draco’s forearm upwards.

Draco is looking at him with a weird expression. If Harry had to guess, Draco’s thinking ‘what they fuck are you doing, Potter?’

Without even thinking about it, he brings Draco’s Mark to his lips and kisses it. It’s by far the most intimate thing he’s ever done, even more than letting Draco touch his cock.

Draco gasps sharply, but this time, he doesn’t pull away. “Potter?” he asks, but he trails off, unsure of what to say next.

“Shh, Draco, it’s okay. It doesn’t need to define you. Whatever choices you’ve made that have brought you here, you can choose differently.”

Harry pauses, waits for his words to sink up, looks straight up at Draco, right in the eyes. After a few seconds, Draco finally speaks. “I can’t, though.”

“Why?” It’s a simple question, and it could easily be accusatory, but Harry’s really, really trying here. He doesn’t know why it’s so important he breaks through with Malfoy, but suddenly it’s the most important thing in the world. (And yes, he’s aware this is a ridiculous conversation to have when they’re naked in a bathtub, but what can you do, there’s a war going on.)

“He’ll kill me."

There’s only two options on who Draco could be referring to. Harry starts with the easier first. “Your dad?”

It’s barely a whisper, but Harry hears the “no” Draco gets out through his gritted teeth.

Harry knows how he has to respond. “He can’t kill you if I kill him first.”

At this, Draco finally meets Harry’s eyes and breaks into the smallest smile Harry’s ever seen. Well, it’s something.

“You really think you can kill him?”

Harry laughs. “I have no idea, but I have to try, don’t I?”

Draco’s smile grows. “I suppose.”

After a moment of contented silence, though, Draco suddenly breaks out into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Harry demands. 

“Come on, Potter, you can’t tell me this isn’t a hilarious situation. We just had the first honest conversation we’ve _ever_ had, and we are standing naked, in a bathtub, in the middle of giving each other handjobs.”

“Well, technically, I never started mine,” Harry states wryly. He’s glad Draco decided to diffuse the tension – they’re going to need to figure out a plan, hopefully Draco will finally tell him what’s he’s been doing all year – but now is most definitely _not_ the time.

“Yeah, you never did, did you?” Draco asks, grinning, instantly turning his asshole persona back on, but somehow, Harry’s finding it charming.

Oh god. This is an interesting development. Harry is probably really, really fucked.

And somehow, still incredibly hard. Draco notices at the same time Harry does and goes back to business. “You wanna get started this time, Potter? I would certainly appreciate it.”

Harry laughs, bring his hand off of Draco’s arm, but he moves it not down, but up. He leans in to cup Draco’s face, bringing their mouths together yet away. Harry takes his time, though, this time, trying to put so much into this kiss, more than he could ever put in words. He thinks he makes Draco understand.

But, of course, there is business to attend to. Harry lets his hand finally, finally make its way to Draco’s erection, and Harry laughs a little when Draco moans at his touch. Draco’s already touching him, and Harry, obviously never having touched another cock before, tries to match the rhythm Draco has set. It seems to be working, if Draco’s moans are anything to go off by, and it’s certainly working for Harry. He can’t believe it’s possible to feel this good. He needs to do so much more of this. Draco’s hand moves for a second and Harry whines at the loss of contact, but it’s only to get a better grip, so the motions can get more intense.

Oh. Harry’s world is on fire. It’s hard to keep up with what he’s supposed to be doing with his own hand, but Draco is making him feel so amazing and he has to do the same. He’s so close, now, the tension is unbearable and he just needs release. He tries to focus, but Draco keeps moaning and – holy shit, Harry’s the one who made him moan like that – and it’s just too much. Harry comes with a cry, Draco’s name on his lips.

A bit later, it could be seconds or minutes or hours, Harry hears his own name being shouted as well. Draco collapses, submerges his body underwater, and appears to take a seat on the nearby ledge. Getting in the water seems like a good idea, so Harry joins.

“So,” Draco starts, “is this what you were expecting when you decided to stalk me tonight?”

“Nope.” Harry laughs again. “Can’t say I’m complaining, though. Do we need to talk about the hard stuff tonight, figure out a plan now?”

Draco gets that somber look again. “No, not tonight. Soon, though, I have a deadline by the end of the year I really need to figure out how not to meet.”

That’s good enough for Harry. “Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow? We have Quidditch practice from 3-5, but I could probably meet up after.”

“5, then. I’ll sneak into the locker rooms and find you there.”

“Can’t get enough of me?”

“Just thinking there’s no better use of my Invisibility Cloak.”

At that, Draco’s face gets his jealous face back on. He really is very expressive. (Or, Harry just knows him too well, but that’s kind of scary to think about.) “No, I don’t suppose there is. It’s certainly better than stalking for nefarious purposes, anyway.”

Harry just grins. He’s been doing a lot of that tonight, and believes it might be the start of something.

He certainly wouldn't mind if it was. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Tumblr! My username is mangoapplepie :)


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